Upholding Tradition
by YunCyn
Summary: Even in the middle of war, there are still certain customs to abide by. This is the not-a-saga of Gerome and Lucina's wedding. (re-rated for the update) 4: In which a battle is fought, vows are made and there is an almost ludicrous amount of dancing.
1. Negotiating the Details

**Upholding Tradition**

Fire Emblem: Awakening (c) Intelligent Systems & Nintendo. If anyone in here is OOC, do forgive me - this is a first dive into this world. Any and all concrit (have I dated myself yet?) is welcome.

**Warnings: **Including Lucina is already spoilerrific in and of itself, so definitely spoilers abound.

* * *

**Negotiating the Details**

.

There came a particular day, in a particular week on a particular month, that Chrom invited Gaius and Cherche to his tent for a private meeting. No one else was to disturb them as long as they were in conference, not even Frederick or Robin, unless they were about to be attacked by Risen. Or any other kind of similarly urgent emergency.

Not one Shepherd batted an eyelid at this. Their lives may have been fraught with danger and the risk of death was ever present, but they were also part of a closely-knit community. In such a condition, news spread fast.

The camp had been informed of the change in scenery, as it were, at one of those casual campfires built just to gather around, telling stories and singing songs.

Gerome had quietly sat right next to Lucina and – one could only assume, with purpose – laced his fingers with hers. Sharp eyes had seen her lean further against him, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. It was as good as a public announcement that Gerome and Lucina were now together, and would most likely marry.

Since both children now had their respective mothers and fathers, it had been only fair to inform them of such an auspicious occasion. No one really knew how Gerome had asked Lucina to marry him, or how he'd asked Chrom if he could marry Lucina (as was the Ylissean custom). What they _did _know was that she had said yes, and so had her father. So now began the official formalities within the Exalt's tent.

The young ruler had dug deep into whatever old family records he could find since it was the first time he had to give someone away in marriage. It was thus to a parchment, diligently copied by hand, that he kept referring to. Beside him sat Olivia, hopeful and eager to please. Opposite them were wily-minded Gaius, and Cherche who'd been quite happy to see how much her son had fallen in love. She'd always liked Lucina; to have her as a daughter-in-law would no doubt be a wonderful thing.

Said son and daughter-in-law sat facing both rows of parents at the furthest end of the tent, wondering just what they'd gotten into.

Chrom put down the parchment and looked up at the others. "To begin with, it's customary to arrange a dowry and other similar things, especially for a princess of Ylisse. In these circumstances however-"

He was interrupted without ceremony. "You're not wiggling out of this one, Chrom. No point in puttin' off contracts when the kids are intent on getting hitched as soon as possible. 'Sides, times like these? She'll need all the security you can give her."

"I was _going to say_," said Chrom pointedly, "that as my eldest daughter, she would inherit the throne of Ylisse and that makes things _rather more complicated, Gaius_."

The thief blinked. "Oh. Well, that's true… but a bit unnecessary."

There was a pause.

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "I suspect I understand your meaning, though I want to hear you say it aloud."

"Make me the bad guy, why don't you…" Gaius nodded towards his son and future daughter-in-law. "We don't know what will happen in the future now that you've come back to the past. We sure as hell won't let you down this time, but because of that, none of us can guarantee what will come next. Am I right?"

There was a general murmur of assent, even as Gerome muttered quite audibly, "We've considered that before, you know."

Gaius gave his son a look. "And you'd have to be fools not to. Which you're not. So all that said – sorry, Lucina – inheriting the throne might be a bit of a stretch."

"No, you are in the right," replied the princess. "Not to mention, it would be unfair to the Lucina of the present and even the Inigo soon to come." (Olivia and Chrom's twin blushes were courteously ignored by all) "My counterpart's birthright must be hers to claim freely. So no, Father. I'll not have the halidom."

Chrom looked uncertainly at his daughter. "Lucina…"

She shook her head. "I've thought of this in… brighter days. It won't do whichever way I consider it." She glanced at her fiancé, and a corner of her lips tugged upwards. "I'll go wherever Gerome does."

No one missed the blush, half cut off by the black mask he still wore. "I… that's…"

Smilingly, Olivia spoke up in time to save Gerome the pained embarrassment of verbally assuring his bride before an audience that he wouldn't take her somewhere she hated. "Maybe the dowry normally given to a younger daughter of an Exalt would be better. It will be a comfortable amount, though I'm sure Gerome will take good care of her in any case."

"And their family, whenever that may happen," added Cherche with a loving, if not entirely innocent, smile.

The fire in Gerome's cheeks blazed brighter, and seemed to ignite one in Lucina's face. Clearing his throat above his wife's giggling, Chrom nodded. "I will consult with Frederick as to the exact customs, but yes. That seems like a better idea if you're all agreeable."

"Well, if you throw in the deeds to the royally appointed confectioneries-"

"_Gaius_…"

Cherche's warning was clear enough. The thief raised his hands. "Fine, fine…"

His wife smiled again. "For my part, if Lucina and Olivia do not object, I would be most happy to lend my needle when you begin making the wedding trousseau."

Olivia clapped her hands together with a bright smile. "That's very generous of you, Cherche. You sew so well, it'll be such a help!"

Lucina looked up with a startled jerk. "Trousseau?"

"Of course, dear. You can't marry without your dress and linens," said her mother, turning to her. "Oh you'll look so beautiful at the wedding…!"

"She's her mother's daughter after all," put in Cherche, looking at Lucina with kindly approval.

The men in the tent exchanged looks, but it was Gerome who finally pointed out rather cautiously, "I don't know what comprises this… trousseau, but wouldn't it take a lot of time to _make_ it all by hand?"

Lucina nodded in agreement. "I needn't have a dress, Mother, Cherche, though it's very kind of you to offer. And on that note… Gerome and I thought we would just ask Libra to simply marry us without any other fuss. It would be practical, and there would be no need to waste our rations and resources-"

"Wait wait wait _wait_."

Gaius narrowed his eyes at the couple. "Are you crazy kids telling us you don't want a ceremony? No feast, no celebrating… _no __**cake**_?"

"We'd still be blessed by a priest. And we're at _war_," replied Gerome, scowling. "There's no time for sweets."

The lollipop that habitually lived in Gaius's mouth almost fell out, shocked as he was at hearing this blasphemy. "…I'm gonna let that go because you're clearly not thinking straight from all the wedding stress. Son, there's _always_ time for _sweets_."

"Besides, your father and I were married in the middle of this chaos and we found time to at least have a feast for the Shepherds," said Cherche calmly.

"Mo- Cherche. It's not the same thing."

Any answer Cherche may have given was interrupted by Olivia's horrified tone. "Hold on. Wouldn't that also mean no _dancing_?"

Lucina winced. "Mother, I would dance a day and a night in peacetime-"

"But… a marriage that doesn't begin with dancing… it's…" Olivia looked at her daughter anxiously. "Oh dear… that's not…" The words were clearly fighting a losing battle as the dancer could only wring her hands.

Chrom took pity on his wife as he explained, "In Ferox, it's considered bad luck not to dance at least once at a wedding."

"But we wouldn't have a wedding to dance at…?"

Lucina's comment was punctuated by a quiet albeit stricken squeak from Olivia that required no translation. It was surely even worse luck to marry without a wedding.

Nonetheless, Lucina sought silent help from Chrom. As leader of the Shepherds, he would have the last word on whether a ceremony would be allowed (or required). In the same way, surely he would most understand the need for such restraint.

Yet, much to her and Gerome's surprise, his brows furrowed in an uncertain frown.

"…I understand your concerns, Lucina, Gerome. We are indeed still fighting a war – no one could forget that. But it's especially in times like these that we must take any chance of celebration that we're given. There are rarely any second chances." He settled his gaze on them seriously, and as kindly as he could manage – it made him look older than his years. "You of all people know time is precious."

There was a long quiet moment.

Finally, Lucina sighed. "But… we can't expect all the Shepherds to agree to this extravagance-"

"_**BLOOD AND THUNDER, OF COURSE WE WILL!"**_

Even Gaius jumped at this sudden thunderbolt of a voice. Gerome raised an incredulous eyebrow. "…no. Surely _not_."

Without another word, Chrom got up, strode two steps to the left and abruptly pulled up the tent flap.

Outside, in what appeared to be quite a struggle to maintain balance so as to hear the conversation better, stood their noble tactician Robin, Lissa, Sumia, Cordelia, Maribelle, Nowi, Cynthia, Severa, Noire, Nah, Kjelle, Morgan, Laurent, Owain, Inigo, Brady and Yarne, all of whom were giving an ashamed looking Noire different variants of dismayed and disapproving looks. Even Laurent and Kjelle couldn't wipe their expressions away in time.

Chrom gave it at least seven seconds' worth of awkward pausing – and guilty, sheepish smiling – before he dryly asked, "Did I not state that I was in a _private _council?"

There was a moment of silence.

Then Robin, with an attempt at a pacifying smile, replied, "Well, you know, we were just… walking… past, and I happened to meet Lissa here! And you know, who should stop by but Sumia and Cordelia and Maribelle _and _Nowi! And of course we got to talking, and then the children all came from their training and you know, this and that happened and we just… happened to… stop and chat! That's… all… really."

"…that's quite a lot of happenings, Robin."

"Forget the happenings, big brother! You two!" exclaimed Lissa as she looked into the tent at a rather stunned looking Lucina and Gerome. "Gaius is right! You crazy kids better have a wedding feast or I'll unleash my Wrath of Aunt Lissa on the two of you!"

Cynthia looked up excitedly. "Ooh, that sounds like such a good fighting move!"

"It's not exactly a move, dear… well, in a way I suppose it could be," pondered Sumia.

Severa tossed a glare at her friend within the tent. "For Naga's sake, you're the _Exalt!_ Have some dignity! Don't you dare have a shabby wedding!"

"And I've always wondered what it'd be like to be a bridesmaid," opined Nah. Noire nodded timidly beside her.

"Speak for yourself," put in Kjelle quickly.

"The logistics of a wedding, economical as it will have to be, would not be beyond our scope of management," added Laurent, adjusting his glasses. "It will just require careful organization, something in which I am quite certain we have no lack of talents."

"Plus there's no shortage of hands to help with the work," Cordelia said with a smile. "It can be done as efficiently as everything else we do."

"True heroes must be afraid of no fatigue, even in the face of matrimo- …Brady, are you crying?"

"NO I'M NOT. I jes'… jes' got dust in my eye dammit!"

"Oh my poor Brady, I know just how you feel." Maribelle dabbed her eyes with a laced handkerchief. "They grow up so fast…!"

"Basically give us a reason to party or we'll never let it go!" called out Inigo gaily.

Nowi threw her tiny arms up in the air. "Yeah, a party!"

"And if ya don't give me a reason ta drink, the Vaike won't let it go either!"

Startled, Chrom poked his head further out, only to see that the crowd behind the initial group of Shepherds (who'd managed to get nearest to the flap) was bigger than he'd guessed.

"What the-"

"Gregor is agreeing with him. Wedding is good thing, especially royal one. Should have good ale." The tall man looked at Chrom, then at his wife in concern. "We have good ale nearby, yes?"

Miriel looked up from her notebook. "Indeed, there are testimonies to the quality of alcohol served at such feasts. And the town two miles east would not be loath to sell us a few kegs for a good price, particularly as they are known to admire the Shepherds for their dedication to this cause of freedom."

Sully, standing to the side with arms crossed, unabashedly snorted. "Tell your kids they worry too damn much. We've had tons of weddings and none of us have died yet."

Virion flourished one hand, unable to keep from giving an opinion. "My sweet Sully speaks true. Despite the severity of our circumstances, mirth is sweet ambrosia to an army's morale – a wedding would be a wonderful source for such merriment."

Despite his own (deeply hidden) amusement, Chrom frowned harder. "Has the entire camp been eavesdropping? Is there no one maintaining _discipline _by remaining _at their posts_, making sure we're not _about to be killed_?"

The voice of Henry floated into the tent. "Of course we're at our posts (all clear by the way). But when you have a tome of espionage – designed for both input and output – anything's possible! Not that you're the enemy but it works pretty good for our current purposes!"

Chrom glared at the roof, as if Henry could see him, before Tharja's voice echoed in, "I'd have put a hex on the tent really. Easier to manipulate."

"Since we're all having a say in this, I would be most honoured to volunteer my services on such an important occasion," added another voice, as amused as it was warm.

"That's very good of you, Libra. Thank you," replied Cherche with a laugh.

And amidst the voices of Shepherds discussing the (now seemingly inevitable) wedding feast, the protests of Chrom to please let them discuss this in _private,_ the sounds of everyone else studiously ignoring their fearless leader's command before he threatened to call for Frederick, and the rather meek confession of said knight to having been there, listening in the whole time ("Milord, my deepest apologies. There is no excuse for such unseemly behaviour but… I was in the middle of it before I knew I'd begun."), Gerome looked at Lucina, who had reached subtly for his hand to hold midway through the negotiations.

He squeezed her fingers gently and murmured, "It's our wedding. Not theirs. We don't have to listen."

Lucina smiled rather helplessly at him. "And what do you think our chances will be against the insistence of an _entire_ camp of highly determined Shepherds?"

Even with the mask on, she saw uncertainty steal in Gerome's face. "…we could fly away with Minerva."

She laughed softly as the noise around them grew louder. "That might be termed desertion."

He smirked a little. "Only long enough to get married and come back. It'll be too late for them to do anything by then."

Lucina's smile made Gerome wish he could take his mask off to see it better. "Ever my protector." Without thinking, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He stared at her. It really couldn't be helped if he raised one hand to gingerly graze a thumb along her left cheekbone, or the fact that he smiled. Lucina's expression at that moment dazed him into involuntary action. "I always will be."

"…you two done?"

The engaged couple jerked and looked up, only to slam straight into a wall of embarrassment. Gaius, who'd seen fit to interrupt them, was giving them the same wry look as Chrom, while both mothers had hands to their mouths, restraining their glee. Beyond the tent, most of the others had _very clearly_ not missed their little moment, judging by the amount of applause and cheering. Lucina even saw Morgan hold two thumbs up with a large grin.

Olivia took in the resigned (and crimson) faces of her daughter and son-in-law. She turned to Chrom, her bright eyes crinkled with laughter.

"I think there's been a change of plans, love."

_End_.

**A/N:** I ask your indulgence regarding Feroxian traditions. And the tome of espionage. Though I must say, if anyone can come up with a tome like that, it's Henry.

…I don't promise a continuation.


	2. Passing Down Knowledge

**Passing Down Knowledge**

* * *

To some of Gerome and Lucina's combined relief, the Shepherds soon proved to be more rational than they first dreaded. Lucina's trousseau would just consist of one new dress that her mother, mother-in-law and apparently most of the female Shepherds asserted she be married in. The wedding feast would be only an expanded dinner with everyone able to have a second helping of whatever was on the table. True, there would be more music played and there would indeed be dancing. But apart from that – and the wedding ceremony just before the feast ("In these precarious times, Naga would have no objection to, ah, abridged, rituals," Libra had assured Chrom who would have to preside over the affair as Exalt) – nothing else would change. Guards would still be posted, watch would still be kept, the army would still remain on alert. Well, with the exception of the newlyweds of course.

To Gerome's growing irritation, everyone kept _unnecessarily_ reminding him about that, like he wasn't aware of how he'd be given a night off. There was no need to constantly rub this privilege in with the constant _winking_, and _elbow poking_ (the mask evidently did nothing in the face of his upcoming nuptials) as if not having to go on guard duty that night was a thing to be so envied. Everyone had their turns – what was so special about _not _keeping watch on one's wedding night?

Gerome had reluctantly muttered as much to his father one afternoon, as they stood watch on the eastern perimeter of camp. (Such a miracle was the result of prolonged, tenacious needling as to why he was so annoyed when he had only a week left to wait till the wedding.)

Gaius's response was characteristically eloquent: he choked on a boiled sweet.

"Th, _THAT'S _(_KLUACK)_ what you're (_HACK_) worked up about?" he wheezed after he'd nearly coughed both lungs out of his mouth.

Gerome glowered, twisting his hand around Minerva's reins. For just five seconds, he'd actually been worried about his father's life. "This whole thing has turned the camp into a circus full of nothing but clowns." He gripped the leather harder. "And none of them entertaining."

"…Gerome. It's not _guard duty_ they're jabbing you about." Gaius sighed. "Look. It's… you _know_ what happens on a wedding night, don't you?"

The glower could have incinerated a man on the spot. "Do you take me for a fool? Of course."

"Then," Gaius paused, scrutinizing his son a bit more. "Really? Do you _honestly_ know what I'm talking about?"

Minerva looked askance at the way her boy was gripping the reins and wondered if it was worth observing it might just rip if he grasped it any tighter. After a moment of smelling the curious mixture of fury and mortification emanating off him, she decided to keep her silence.

"_Yes_," replied Gerome through gritted teeth.

Gaius assessed his chances of survival if he pushed the subject. Then he took the necessary precaution of taking a step back before he posed his question.

"Cross your heart?"

If Gerome had been a wyvern, this would have been the moment Gaius found himself being sawn in half by rows of very sharp teeth. Instead, human Gerome could only toss the reins aside and whirl around in frustration.

"I'm sharing a tent with Lucina from then on, _what do you _think_ I am _not_ aware of?_"

Gaius backed another step away. "Fair enough, fair enough. I just thought, maybe in the future… since I wasn't around to, y'know, talk to you about any of this stuff…"

Gerome glared at him. "Inigo found manuals in the libraries. He _naturally_," the word was scathingly pronounced, "left them lying around the training quarters."

"When you say manuals…" Gaius very quickly dodged when Gerome lunged at him. "Easy, son! I was just making sure! Gods, you're wound up tighter than a screw… "

Gerome could make no answer, trying to regain his temper. As he looked at his father's puzzled yet concerned face, a sense of contriteness filled his breast. No matter how irritating Gaius could be, he _was_ making an effort to look out for him. Even if Gerome was just his fellow soldier, to say nothing of a son, this sudden lack of self-control was disgraceful.

And if truth be told, in the middle of all this anger and embarrassment, there was something else Gerome wasn't sure anyone else he trusted (however reluctantly) would understand.

"I'm sorry. That was… uncalled for."

Gaius blinked. Gerome's shoulders hadn't exactly relaxed, but there was a bit of a slump in the military posture he always had. "That's alright."

Gerome stared at his hand, opening and closing his fingers into a fist as if he were testing them out for the first time. "It's just… I don't... know."

"…you don't know… what?"

The man seemed to hesitate. Then he breathed out.

"I don't know… if I'm doing the right thing. Dragging her into a life with me. Especially in a time we don't belong to."

Gaius eyed his son warily as he stepped quietly closer. Even he knew when not to make jokes. Though he seemed calm now, Gerome could be unpredictable.

But for his son, Gaius supposed he could take more risks than the usual quota. In fact, he'd fly in the face of the creed of all thieves to gladly take any and every risk for his son.

"I don't know about the time bit. But no one really knows for sure if they'll always be happy before they're married." When Gerome deigned to glance at him, he smirked. "Heck, half the time I clearly make your mother mad."

"…I can believe that."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Look, gimme a break. I'm tryin' to be fatherly here."

A tiny smirk flickered off as quickly as it had appeared on Gerome's lips, but thieves had quick eyes. Nonetheless, Gaius merely jerked his chin towards a grassy hill nearby. "Let's take a quick walk. Minerva can keep an eye out for a minute or two."

When Gerome showed reluctance, Minerva added her voice. He ought to go with his father, she said.

"There. If she approves, you can't object."

Gerome sighed. Then with one last backward look at the wyvern, he kept pace with Gaius.

"I know you're scared."

"I'm not-" Gerome received a look and pressed his lips together again, looking away. Gaius let it go then, as they sat atop the mound. Neither noticed they'd crossed their legs in exactly the same fashion.

"…the best of us get scared. Who are we to promise things we can't really guarantee? And for life too, which you can tell may be short these days."

Gerome stared out onto the wide sky, feeling himself tense at the thought of losing the people they had come to save (and regain). Lucina especially hated the thought of anyone's death, but so did all the other children. Their parents would always accept the risk more readily… if only because they hadn't seen what would be left behind.

"But you love her."

Gaius eyed his son – whose face had (on cue) turned a few shades pinker – and couldn't help smiling. "For once, you and I've got something in common." At Gerome's wary glance, he laughed. "I don't get mushy with your mother in public. But I'd rather see her alive and cursing me for getting in between her and a Risen. I'd wager my entire stash of honey-glazed sugar sticks on the fact you'd do the same for Blue's daughter. No matter whether in your future, or this present, or any other time, you'd keep her safe."

Gerome looked at his hands. "…I promised myself, I'd protect her… as much as I should've protected you and Cherche."

Around them, as Gaius looked at his son for a long time in silence, trees murmured and rustled in the wind. They seemed to find it easier to speak.

But at last, Gaius decided – once again flying in the face of everything a thief was supposed to do – it was just best to be honest.

"You didn't fail us. You never could."

Finally, Gerome looked fully at his father. Gaius had a rare smile on his face, full of pride and affection.

"You made it so far, all on your own. You had it tough – and we weren't there to make it any easier. Now there's only so much time left before you set off on something else we can't always help you with. If anyone says that's not something to be proud of… well," He shrugged. "To hell with that opinion. I'm gonna be proud of you, like it or not."

Gerome felt a strange sense of pleased embarrassment but kept up his poker face even as he said, "…thanks."

Gaius smirked. "Welcome."

There was more quietness, but it was easier and freer to breathe now. A sense of a hurdle overcome or a dam broken so a stream could run clear again filled the air.

"You'll be fine, Gerome."

He looked up. "…how do you know?"

Gaius pulled out a wrapped sweet, fingers working to pull the thin paper off. "You're better than your old man, I shouldn't wonder. So if your mother's still stickin' with me after all I put her through, Lucina won't give up on you. That girl's the same determined type."

Gerome's answering smile was small, but Gaius knew how to read it. It was a more heartfelt thank you than anything else his son could have said.

Unfortunately, the smile vanished at the next insidious question that ran through Gerome's mind.

"…even if…"

Gaius's eyes slid sideways and caught the blush rising in Gerome's face. Alarm bells started ringing in his head.

"Yeah?"

When Gerome hesitated far longer than was comfortable, Gaius subtly replaced the sweet back in its wrapper. Choking was not an option – he didn't think he could survive two experiences like that in one day.

The younger man bowed his head, letting out a mix between a sigh and a low groan. "…even in private matters?"

"Well… you know the basics, right?"

"…theoretically."

It was a good thing Gaius felt as uncomfortable as Gerome looked. If not, he would have burst out laughing and it would have made for a terrible ending to their heart-to-heart.

"Guess those manuals really were just _manuals_…" He muttered, before commenting louder, "I suppose it's not surprising given your world in the future. Doubt there was much… opportunity to practice."

Gerome didn't like to think he was the type to squirm. He merely shifted weight. "I was always too busy training. I don't believe Lucina's… practiced either."

"Y'never know." When Gerome abruptly looked up at him, he raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter if she has?"

"…no."

"Truthfully?" He raised an eyebrow. "I ask because if it matters, you should be talking it out with her, not me."

Gerome looked away to the horizon, discomforted and reluctant to answer… but knowing he had to if he wanted to have his mind clear.

"…she's still Lucina, experienced or not. It changes nothing, so it doesn't matter."

"Then if she is, she'll probably tell you what to do. If she's not, remember what you've read. And just…" Gaius made a face. It was bloody difficult putting this in words to a grown son you _technically_ never had. He'd die for this boy but damned if he knew how to explain _technique_ without feeling like an idiot.

Then again, Gaius was well aware Gerome was already putting almost everything on the line by asking questions this far. That was how nervous the boy was. Surely the least a considerate father could do was give him some measure of practicaladvice.

"…just ask."

"…ask?"

Gaius mussed the back of his hair, not quite daring to look his son in the eye. "When you're… together, just… ask her questions. What, y'know, feels right or what makes her, uh, happy. Trust me, if she's happy, it'll make things easier."

"Happy," repeated Gerome with two parts scepticism, three parts understanding. "…right."

Gaius could have wrung his hands. Why didn't he have a daughter? Then this would be Cherche's job and he wouldn't have to explain. ('Course, he'd have to kill the man who managed to convince his baby girl to marry him, but that was another story.)

"…look, I'm just gonna have to be blunt. If she likes you kissing her, do it. If she likes massages, do it. If you…" He looked up to the sky, asking Naga why he was doing this. "I dunno, if you like her licking your toes or something, ask her if she'll do it. Nicely."

Gerome erupted with a "WHAT?!"

"_All I'm __**saying**__," _hurried Gaius along, feeling distinctly unclean for a huge variety of reasons and (for once) begging forgiveness from any listening gods, "is that this is a really give and take thing. But just… pay attention to her as well, not only yourself." After another severely awkward moment of silence, he sighed. "You'll learn, and so will she. You're just gonna have to trust me on that."

Flaring with all sorts of emotions – humiliation, shock, the urge to hit his father over the head with his axe, a bizarre wonder at a world that could contain such a suggestion as Gaius had put forth – Gerome eyed him cautiously again. But seeing how his father was steadfastly refusing to look at him, with a face as rigid as a bright red board, he found enough grace to consider that this was probably as hard for the thief as it was for him.

So the wyvern rider nodded. Stiffly, but it was a clear acceptance: he would trust the other man. "Alright."

The words in Gaius's mind flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. "In the meantime I should probably find you a better manual."

When he realized what he'd just said, he braced himself for some sort of scathing retort. Yet, all Gaius got instead was an uncomfortable squirm (there was no other word for it at this stage), and a very, very quick nod before Gerome got swiftly to his feet, announcing he'd scout the rest of the borders with Minerva. Gaius would just have to take the ground watch on his own.

He'd progressed a few steps when he stopped and turned.

"Thank you again… Father."

Before Gaius could stop him – this was, what, only the _second_ time he'd ever been called that? – Gerome was already walking briskly, almost jogging, back to where Minerva waited. It wasn't too long before the wyvern took to the sky.

Gaius remained where he sat, watching the silhouette against the clouds, and then smirked to himself. Finally, he could eat his candy in peace.

It could've been worse, he concluded. Gerome could have just ignored him, or flown away from the get go, not wanting to open up about any of these troubles.

_Or not read manuals to begin with. _

For the second time that day, Gaius found himself having to spit out a boiled sweet before he choked to death.

.

_End._

**A/N: **...alright, so this might be more than just a one-shot. Forgive my indulgence.

I'm operating on the assumption that the kids were orphaned at a relatively tender age - earliest at 11, I'm very much _guessing -_ but they still would've found some way to learn about sex. The headcanon here is that since Inigo is Lucina's brother, he would've _probably _found his way into the pertinent section of the castle library pretty easily despite the war. (Even royal libraries will have their version of the Kama Sutra or something alike, I'm sure. For the sake of completion, if nothing else.)

My apologies if a virginal Gerome doesn't quite gel with your headcanon, but I do think he'd have been too focused on Being Orphaned, Fighting to Stay Alive and Protecting His Friends to pay much more than basic attention to anything else. (I suspect the usual dreams (starring Lucina) have occurred, but he hasn't cared to tell me and frankly, I don't think he'd let me live if I asked.)

Uh, anyway. Thank you for reading through the awkwardness!


	3. A Final Fitting

** A Final Fitting**

**Warnings:** A mention of Lon'qu/Cordelia; Chrom/Olivia

* * *

"I… can I really wear this?"

Severa let out a snort. "You better! Your mother-in-law did most of the sewing!"

"Now, Severa…" chided Cordelia as gently as she could.

"Well it's _true_."

"I still think a cape would've made it look even more epic, but it's going to look beautiful, Lucina!" added Cynthia, who had been mostly instrumental in bandaging her mother's fingers and entertaining the temporary seamstresses with her chatter. In between fighting and moving camp, they had made use of whatever spare time they had to gather material and put Lucina's wedding dress together.

Cherche smiled at the young woman looking at the cloth in some wonder. "It will fit well, I believe. But you should try it on one last time, just to see if we need to make adjustments."

"It feels like I'll tear it," said Lucina with a laugh, as she gathered it up in her hands. "I'll be careful though." She headed to a corner of her tent blocked off by a makeshift curtain to form a changing room.

Just as soon as she did, Nowi, Nah and Noire happened to hurry in. All were carrying baskets full of large daisies. Flowers were a Ylissean must at weddings, Sumia had claimed – a symbol of good fortune and blessings from the guests who would fling them onto the newlyweds when the ceremony was complete. It was as important as dancing, and joining both traditions of Ylisse and Ferox would boost such morale, she had said. (Lucina hadn't the heart to question the absolute necessity of this. She had been assured that wedding tasks took everyone's minds off the violence they had to face most days. It was a good thing, she'd been told.)

"We picked thiiiiiis many and there's still even more left!" said Nowi excitedly as the younger girls tipped the flowers into a large box. "All just as white and yellow and cute!"

"They're perfect," said Olivia. She smiled up at the flower gatherers. "Would you mind terribly if I asked you to go back for more? Inigo and I could use some in our performance."

"Yaaay, more flower picking games! Let's go girls!"

Nah sighed as her mother bounced off without another word. "I better go make sure she doesn't _eat_ them. _Again_."

"W, wait up! You forgot the baskets!" Gathering them up again, Noire hurried after them, throwing the tent flap back down behind her.

Sumia positively beamed at the flowers. "Oh, look at them all – so bright and cheery."

"Daisies were a good idea," said Cordelia with a smile. "Costs nothing, found everywhere, _and_ looks beautiful, especially against Lucina's dark hair."

Cynthia looked up curiously. "Speaking of… Lucina! You done?"

"Almost…! I'm just not sure…" She poked her head out from behind the curtain. "Mother?"

Olivia chuckled gently. "Coming, dear."

As she went behind the covering, the tent poles outside were tapped on. Severa lifted the tent flap and blinked to see Lon'qu standing before her. "Daddy? What're you here for?"

The warrior wore a slightly queasy look, a side effect at having been sent to call on the women (apart from his wife and daughter anyway). "Frederick asks if it's possible for anyone else you can spare to help with the preparations for dinner tonight."

Sitting nearby, Cordelia smiled at him. "Of course. Go ahead and we'll catch up."

Lon'qu threw her a short grateful glance then hurried away again. Cordelia looked back to the others and repeated his message.

Sumia laughed. "I've a feeling Frederick just wants reinforcements to make sure no one interferes with his new recipe for sweet fig bread." Getting to her feet, she turned to Cherche. "Will you be alright with the alterations?"

Cherche looked up with a laugh. "'ll probably be of more help in the kitchens – Gaius must be haunting the place. Whatever that may need doing here, I'm sure Olivia will be able to do well." She lowered her voice. "And perhaps she and Lucina could do with a quiet moment together."

Sumia and Cordelia smiled at that, then ushered their own daughters out. Cherche followed behind, calling out to Olivia that they would be leaving for a while.

So it came to be that the only audience Lucina had for her wedding dress when she stepped out from behind the curtain was her mother. But in the circumstances, perhaps it was for the best. Blushing brightly, Lucina had one hand over her chest and the other clapped to her side. "Mother, I don't know if… well, isn't this… not quite as much cloth as we normally use?"

Olivia shook her head as she took several steps back. "How well it looks on you! Come, put the hands by your sides… there now. Take a turn, let's have a look."

Bare armed and bare shouldered, the simple white cotton dress was held up by two strings across Lucina's shoulders, secured at the sides by more crisscrossing strings (though its openings were still large enough to bare some skin), and flowed to her ankles. Round her hips sat thin, tasselled ropes with an iron button – the Brand had been specially carved into it – and another extra belt to hold her Falchion (Lucina had insisted on this – she would have her sword with her just in case, wedding or no. She wouldn't take chances on that.)

"Ohh, it's so pretty. Gerome won't be able to take his eyes away," giggled Olivia.

Lucina looked up, bright red. "Mother!"

"Well, you _do _want him to look at you, don't you?"

It was probably the air of festivity infecting her normally sweet mother with more mischief than usual. Nonetheless, Lucina pushed past the heat in her face. "Y, yes."

Olivia beamed. "There then. You're about to marry the man you love – it's only natural."

"Um, about that, Mother. Could I ask you a personal question?" Olivia nodded, but it took Lucina another second before she spoke.

"When, when you got married, you… hadn't been with any other men before, had you?"

If Olivia hadn't realised she had a remarkable talent for tripping over herself while standing still, she did now. The sudden query had thrown her literally off balance, as she landed on her side on a convenient cushion. After Lucina hurriedly made sure she wasn't hurt, Olivia had to take five minutes to fight off the waves of embarrassment that were attacking her.

"Wh, why do you ask- n, no dear! No, certainly not!"

There followed a few moments of silence, with Lucina nodding fervently as if to assure her that she believed her mother.

_That could have gone better_, thought a dismayed Olivia. But the princess, seemingly understanding the mortification that had struck her mother, shone like a crimson paper lantern too. She had definitely inherited her blush from the dancer-queen. "Th, then, on your wedding night…"

Olivia stared at her as the realisation of what Lucina was getting at dawned. "Oh. _Oh_. _**OH**__._" She took Lucina's hands, embarrassment very quickly replaced by understanding._ "_Oh my dear, I was rather waiting to talk to you about that. I wasn't sure if you knew. I mean, I know things were terrible in your time, so I didn't really know how you may have understood, um, relations between husband and wife."

Lucina shook her head rather confusingly. "There wasn't time to go into details, so to speak. We were all fighting, trying to survive. A, at least I didn't think about it much. But we had books, and Severa and Nah talked about it a few times but…" She grasped Olivia's hands instinctively tighter, unable to continue.

Olivia took in a deep breath. "Well, okay. The thing is, when…" The blood rose to her cheeks despite her attempts to remain calm. The words seemed to come too slowly, and uttered too heavily. "When a bride and a bridegroom… are alone together on that night… uhm, well, he has to-"

"Mother, what I meant is I... I've read. I know what _happens_ per se. It sounds… straightforward in a book but it's different in real life, isn't it? Like swordplay?" When Olivia nodded slowly, she looked down at their joined hands. "I don't think I'll be able to… be a proper wife that way, somehow."

There was a few seconds of silence as Olivia frowned sympathetically. She'd never quite seen Lucina so crestfallen. _Come on, Olivia. For your baby girl. _

"Lucina, when you see Gerome, how do you feel?"

Lucina looked up at her, and when Olivia nodded encouragingly, she pressed her lips together for a moment. "Safe. He's always protected me, since we both learned how to fight. And," A tentative smile emerged, remembering the day they'd both confessed their feelings. "I've always loved him, I think."

That smile made Olivia beam again. "And he has always loved you, yes?" At Lucina's slow nod, she pressed her daughter's hands. "Remember that feeling and it'll be fine. You don't have to be afraid of not knowing. Or disappointing him. Gerome himself may not quite know what will happen either, but that's also normal. Just… try not to think too much about it."

"What do you mean?"

Olivia wracked her brain. "It… works better when you don't worry too much about it. You see, I worried. A lot. I thought I might cast up my accounts on the day before my wedding. In fact, I worried to the extent that on that night, it all went rather wrong."

"…Wrong?" Lucina ventured, unsure if she'd like the rest of the story.

Oddly though, and comfortingly, a rather embarrassed smile had appeared on Olivia's face. "I'd been so worried about letting your father down, I hadn't realised he was nervous as well." She couldn't help a slight helpless grin. "I can tell you a pair of _very anxious_ newlyweds doesn't make for a happy bed. I didn't know it then, but we _both_ woke up the next morning absolutely convinced we'd ruined our marriage from the beginning. I actually dreaded the next night, much as I loved him.

"But then I thought, if I loved him as well as I kept saying I did, I ought to tell him that I hadn't meant to make it terrible. But when I said I had been scared and I was sorry, he told me he'd felt the same way. And we just decided maybe we should just… enjoy being married, and love each other as we always have, and not worry so much."

Olivia's eyes veritably twinkled at her next statement. "Then baby Lucina came along some time later."

Lucina blinked at her, then breathed in deeply. "So… don't worry?"

Her mother smiled wider. "And be honest with each other. Tell him how you feel, listen to what he says as well. And… like I said, just enjoy being married." She paused for a moment. "Try kissing him and not stopping. See what happens."

Lucina stared at her. "Is that what you did?"

Despite the furious colour that had overtaken Olivia's face again, she nodded. "Now, it may hurt, as it'll be your first time. But it _can_ get better." She smiled reassuringly past the blushing. "It'll be alright, Lucina. All will be well."

The princess looked at her mother's face, comforting in its quiet beauty, and took in a deep breath. "I'll do my best, Mother."

So much maternal pride filled Olivia that moment, she could have danced. "That's my girl."

Suddenly inexplicably embarrassed – but perhaps not _that_ inexplicably since thoughts of Gerome kept flashing through her mind – Lucina concentrated back on the skirt of her dress, swishing it back and forth.

As she did so, turning this way and that, Olivia's embarrassment began to fade, replaced by a sudden vision of Lucina carrying a tiny bundle of cloth in her arms. For all her awkward, halting questions, and against the disquietingly moderate odds that either she or Gerome could be killed in their next battle, Lucina was going to be married. Soon – a week from this day, no less – this incredibly strong, brave, intelligent, kind young woman before her would not only be Olivia's daughter but a wife. And perhaps a mother too, though no one could tell how that might happen in this present.

_Maybe Cherche did too well with the dress_, she thought as she placed a hand on the base of her throat.

Not noticing, Lucina decided to change the subject as she said, "I suppose for the wedding, it won't hurt to have a change of dress…" She looked back up and started slightly. "Mother?"

Olivia shook her head. She dashed away a betraying tear, trying to smile. "I'm being silly. You're going to be so happy, Lucina. I know it. I just didn't think I would have to give you away this soon."

Lucina stepped towards her, gently taking her hands into hers. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course dear. Anything."

"Back in the future, I never thought I would marry." She smiled, somewhat wistfully. "Weddings were overshadowed by funerals there. But… I remember I dreamt once that I _did_ get married. You and Father were there. I don't remember anything else except you were both alive to see me. So I suppose, when Gerome asked me to marry him, it was really a dream come true. In more ways than one."

Lucina's smile was almost heartbreaking in its pure joy, accompanying the watery eyes looking at the gentle mother whom she was so grateful to see again. "So, I'm sorry Mother, but when I see your tears, I feel happy. You're actually _here_ to cry at my wedding."

Olivia could take no more. Embracing her daughter, both hers and Lucina's tears flowed freely, mingling into long blue hair, pastel pink locks, and onto the new dress. Neither of them cared as they cried for a future lost, and possibly one regained; for a mother she could not be, for the mother she now was; for a daughter she didn't have, for the daughter she could now see grown and married.

When the bouts of crying eventually subsided, and after Olivia scrambled for any form of scrap cloth they could use to wipe the tears away, mother and daughter surveyed the dress again.

The conclusion was the same: it really was quite beautiful.

.

End.

**A/N:** In case anyone's been wondering, this should be set some time in between Walhart's defeat and the march to Plegia (Chapters 20 and 21). This could explain Chrom allowing the marriage to take place, after so much sadness.

Yes, Lucina's dress is the one from the Fire Emblem Awakening soundtrack cover, that flabbergastingly pretty one. It looked nice and neat enough to be made in the middle of fighting. (and by this I give testament to the tailoring of said dress by Cherche and co. - anything that looks easy usually takes a ton of effort to do.) You can't tell me anyone who sees her in that won't comically run into a metaphoric lamppost. (Also yes, Lon'qu and Cordelia are married here as are Frederick and Sumia i.e. I like to send my precious ships sailing where it'd be reasonable enough to do so. I'm sorry.)

Yes, my headcanon has Chrom and Olivia's wedding night being _extremely _awkward_, _rather unfortunately painful and cause for any amount of second hand embarrassment if the story ever gets told. They got _a lot_ better though.

...what can I say, I like pre-wedding embarrassing parent-children talk so much, I had to give Lucina focus as well. However! You'll be pleased to know there won't be anymore. Regardless, thank you for reading this far!


	4. Dearly Beloved

**Dearly Beloved**

**Warnings: **Gerome/Lucina; Laurent/Severa; Inigo/Kjelle; Owain/Cynthia; Yarne/Nah; Brady/Noire; Virion/Sully; Vaike/Maribelle; Frederick/Sumia; Libra/Tharja; Lon'qu/Cordelia; Henry/Nowi; Gaius/Cherche.

If any of the above is going to be a problem, you are most welcome to hit the back button. Thank you!

* * *

Slicing one last Risen before him, Inigo raised his head to look around, just to check on his friends. He could see Brady giving Yarne a hand in the distance, so that was alright. But where was the last member of their little quartet?

A shrill warning shriek from above got him to roll aside just before a blast of heat roared past, roasting a few more Risen some yards away.

_Atta girl, Minerva_, thought Inigo, grinning at the welcome sight of the hovering wyvern.

After Ricken had spotted a moderate-sized band of Risen heading their way that morning, half the Shepherds had taken off in fuller force than strictly necessary. No one wanted the evening ruined. Yet despite the fact most of the Shepherds generally liked having either or both Minervas fighting in battle, most of them had tried to tell Gerome to stay behind. Just like Lucina, he had ignored everyone and shown up anyway.

Inigo had a theory about this insistence on fighting (apart from reasons of duty, honour and so on), as he called out quite cheerfully, "No need to be so nervous, brother-in-law!"

He could've sworn Minerva's rider gave him a dirty look but it was hard to tell from the ground. Nonetheless, he figured he'd earned at least one more ribbing since he'd successfully managed to keep a number of enemies from getting too close.

"You'll be fine! You're the main star of the night, remember?"

"Focus, you idiot! We're not finished here! Brady, Yarne, enemies at two o'clock!"

As Gerome and Minerva headed north to continue her flambéing, Inigo actually laughed while swinging his sword round to face another wave of Risen. "Hah! Wedding jitters!"

Beside him, Yarne leapt forward to maul a few enemies whose surprise at being attacked by a giant bunny was short-lived. So it was Brady who shouted, as magic emanated from his stave, "How can ya tell!?"

Inigo felt the boost travelling through his veins, strengthening his tired limbs and easing the pain of his cuts and bruises. He grinned thankfully at the priest.

"He actually bothered answering!"

.

"He did?"

Inigo nodded, a tinge of smugness in his face. After all, _he_ had caused Gerome the Usually Frustratingly Taciturn to actually offer conversation in battle. "Yep."

"Interesting." Laurent stroked his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. "I shall have to make a note of this phenomenon if it can affect even Gerome. Of course, a test of battle for most bridegrooms would be rather difficult to arrange as well as dangerous, but perhaps with more research and experimentation, artificial simulation might be a possible substitute. Perhaps moving automaton? But how would it-"

His ponderings were interrupted by a soft smack on the arm. Jolting, he looked up to meet Severa's glower from the other side. "Not now! It's almost time."

"Oh yes, of course. My apologies."

Severa side-eyed him for a second then looked away, even as her hand impulsively covered his while it rested on the table. All of the children in fact were sitting together towards the mess tent's front, so as to get a good view of the proceedings. In line with Ylissean rites, the bride and bridegroom would be escorted in by their elders, hence Gaius, Cherche and Olivia's conspicuous absence. Everyone else not on guard or kitchen duty murmured amongst themselves as they waited.

Inigo caught the smile Laurent gave Severa and sighed. "Y'know, at the rate you two are going, you might as well just tell your parents tonight."

Severa could have committed homicide, if not for Laurent's restraining hand. Nonetheless, the blush was very obvious. "Y, you're one to talk…! You haven't told Sully and Virion about whose hand you're holding over there!"

"That's only because we're waiting for the right time!" Inigo looked at the girl on his left, whose pink-tinged cheeks indicated she hadn't missed their conversation. "Right, Kjelle?"

"Just, just be quiet, all of you," was all Kjelle would say, squeezing Inigo's fingers harder than she thought. Two weeks into the relationship wasn't enough time for her to gauge how much he could take. Or perhaps it was, since she received a smile from him anyway in spite of the wince.

The little exchange hadn't quite gone unnoticed. In a little space that had been cleared towards the front, as he stood beside the Exalt, Libra smiled to himself at the sight of the eight young ones sitting nearby.

"Libra?"

Libra blinked, and bowed slightly. "I beg your pardon. I was observing the children."

Chrom looked in the same direction. He couldn't help a smile when Yarne was startled at Owain's sudden burst of speech – something about his sword hand and hot blood coursing through its veins – before he was promptly yelled at by Severa and Nah. "They're a lively crowd."

The priest chuckled gently. "I dare say it bodes well for our future. I have faith that Naga didn't send your daughter in vain, milord." Libra saw the way Noire timidly leaned against Brady and smiled wider. He knew it would be some time before she even breathed a word to him or her mother about their intentions. "Nor did she send mine for naught."

Chrom nodded. As he heard Inigo and Cynthia's laughter mixed together, he breathed in. "We'll not fail them again, Libra. We cannot."

"No indeed. But for now," Libra gestured to the entrance of the mess tent. "I believe there is a wedding to perform."

Strong, lilting notes were beginning to arise just beyond the entrance, silencing the crowd. Most of the Shepherds had heard this tune twice already at Virion's and Cherche's respective ceremonies. Regardless, it was a welcome tune.

Chrom turned his eyes to the front, watching Cherche come in singing the old Valmese song of blessing, asking for happiness and peace upon the young bride. Olivia kept pace, blending her lark-like voice in harmony with the wyvern rider.

And in between the women, filling Chrom with more pride than he thought was humanly possible, walked Lucina. Large daisies had been placed in her hair, and the lovely simplicity of her dress curiously softened the princess's usually composed face, rendering her even younger in his eyes. Although perhaps that could have been more due to her hesitant smile as she glanced around at her grinning friends, then at her father.

The trio came to a halt before him, along with the song, and Lucina curtsied to her father. When she'd straightened, Chrom deviated from the script just enough to murmur, "You look beautiful, Lucina."

Her smile grew stronger at that. "Thank you Father."

A second later, with smiles, Cherche began the song anew – the same melody but requesting good wishes for the groom's party this time.

Gaius walked in, his perpetual smirk on his face though for once, no lollipop stick was present. On his right was Gerome, tall, dark and imposing in polished armour and the usual mask shielding his eyes. His back was ramrod straight, and the bow he offered to Chrom was stiff. It had almost a jerky quality to it, like he was being controlled by an amateur puppeteer. Gaius' unsubtle pat on the back didn't quite help.

Yet when Gerome seemed to see Lucina at last, a smile overtook his lips. They stood side by side while Gaius joined Cherche on their left, and Olivia on their right.

Smilingly, Libra stepped forward. One of Henry's tomes ensured everyone could hear him. "In the name of the Divine Dragon Naga, speak truthfully. Why have you come today?"

"To seek her consecration upon our union," replied Gerome, his voice steadier and calmer than his body language indicated.

"Know that such an alliance is considered a sacred oath before the Divine Dragon, and to keep it faithfully must be amongst the first of your duties." Libra's expression was kind but grave at the same time. "Heed me: it is better to confess now in humility than to betray such vows as you will make – there is no dishonour in turning back. Answer carefully."

Lucina hadn't found it hard to memorise the response, since she meant every word. "I have decided. I will not turn back."

Gerome shook his head as well. "I will not turn back."

Libra smiled warmly. "Then let it be done. Name the ones with whom you would join in wedlock."

Everyone knew how the duo would answer. They really did – there was no question about the outcome. It just seemed customary to hold their breath. For in the folktales and old songs, it was often at the Naming that the brides or bridegrooms chose different people (as if the Confirming hadn't a purpose in these proceedings) and… well, that was usually when the story _really_ got going.

Lucina turned towards the man by her side, the blush complimenting the brightness of her blue eyes. "I will have Gerome, son of Gaius and Cherche, and no other."

Gerome's answering smile was unmistakeable – it was probably the first time some of the Shepherds had ever seen it. "I will have Lucina, daughter of Chrom and Olivia, and no other."

Not a few people exhaled as quietly as possible. Meanwhile, Libra bowed and stepped back to let Chrom take his place. Looking at the young couple in front of him, he paused a short moment then spoke.

"Listen well. Before this company, your families and each other, I charge you as Exalt, in the name of Naga:

"Be true to one another, for you have promised yourselves to no other. Protect and honour each other's spirits and bodies, for you and any children you may have will be the future of our world. Support and help each other in all seasons, blooming or barren, for the family was created to be such a sanctuary. And above all," He glanced at Olivia, who smiled back. "Hold each other fast, so the bonds forged between you can and will endure unto the last of the world's ages."

An obvious sniff came from Brady's direction as Gerome and Lucina replied in unison, quite forgetting they were supposed to be looking at Chrom rather than each other at this point. "This we swear, 'til the end of our days."

Chrom's smile was broad and proud. As he approached them, and joined both their hands, he nodded at Gerome – another deviation from the script, but no one would think to blame him for it. Not when he told his new son-in-law, with sincerity, "I trust you."

Gerome bowed his head in answer. Nothing he said could match the weight of those three words.

Chrom turned to his daughter, and saw her eyes waver with unshed tears. Yet he only smiled, kissing the temple of her forehead.

"Be happy, Lucina."

The tears were dangerously close to falling as she nodded. "I will…!"

Chrom stepped back again, stretched his hands apart and despite the mixed feelings of love, pride and a tinge of sorrow in his chest, managed to speak aloud.

"Remember this promise you have made, freely and wholeheartedly; you are as one now. Go forth in joy, with blessings from all of us here, and may the Divine Dragon Naga smile upon you both!"

Later, those who had stood guard – Kellam, Panne and Gregor among them – said they knew exactly when Lucina and Gerome had tied the knot even if those who brought them their portions of the ensuing feast hadn't told them. The cheers, whistles and applause that had exploded from the mess tent could be heard all the way from the borders. It was just too bad that they missed the rain of white flowers showered on the newly married couple as they received congratulatory kisses, hugs, and slaps on the back from almost the entire army.

Still, the second helpings of food, and the improved quality of the ale that night, more than made up for it. And even as the guards stood watch against the night, they could still hear the hands clapping to the beat of exuberant melodies. Owain turned out to be quite a natural with a makeshift tambourine ("My sword hand twitches… with rhythm!"), while Maribelle and Brady's violin duets got demands for encores. The ale Miriel had wisely predicted could be obtained for a cheaper price, allowed Inigo to dance without as much embarrassment alongside his mother (it certainly didn't lower his credit with Kjelle) to a thunderous ovation.

That performance paved the way for the liveliest jigs and dances the Shepherds had had thus far, after they had cleared away tables and chairs. Sumia was asked to demonstrate a Pegasus Knight's steps but slipped too many times to be the best guide. Yet Frederick caught her each time so all was well. Brady put on his best cheery fiddling tunes, joined by Donnel who drummed out a beat on improvised percussions (his pot, in addition to several other plates and some convenient cutlery, made a useful sound) and surprisingly, Anna's flute playing. ("I'll put this down as a wedding present – I don't usually play for free, y'know!")

Most of the children let their hair down – Owain led his mother out in a twirl before coming up with outlandish movements with a very willing Cynthia. Nah convinced Yarne to join in a harmless country dance, with Kjelle, who had first claimed to not want to dance, before taking three seconds to be convinced to join in the fun, and Inigo who heeded no more inhibitions of dancing in public, at least for the night.

Vaike had challenged Chrom to a dance-off. When he'd been thoroughly ignored, since the Exalt was swaying and twirling with a naturally more graceful Olivia, he challenged Sully instead. It merely took three minutes for Virion to saunter out, and take his wife aside so _he _could educate her in something else other than 'uncouth stomping'. Maribelle wasted no time in doing the same with Vaike, announcing that dancing lessons were in effect immediately. Nearby, Gaius had caught a smiling Cherche's hand without a word and twirled her right into his arms.

A curious Laurent who wanted to 'experiment in human nature's tendency to express joy by matching body movement to cadences of music' persuaded Miriel of the merits in joining him, since Father wasn't here to aid in their testing. Severa joined them a short time later for an 'investigational three-person-jig', buoyed by the high spirits of the evening, and also because her father had flat-out refused to dance.

Instead, Lon'qu had preferred to sit contentedly with Cordelia, who'd already danced two rounds with other people. He smiled faintly to hear his wife chuckle at the sight of the jubilant Nowi and Henry – she was small and slight enough to stay _on_ his feet the entire time he two-stepped to the music.

Say'ri, who'd honourably accepted her kitchen duty for the night, slipped out for a breather. In the dim light of a half moon, she'd spotted Tharja dancing quietly and slowly with Libra just outside the mess tent. When she returned to the tubs of plates and cutlery, where Ricken, Morgan, Robin and Stahl were – all of them with soap up to their elbows and, in Morgan's case, foam on his nose – and told them of this, there had been grins all around.

As for the newlyweds, who had dutifully danced one round halfway through the evening – still stiffly in Gerome's case – they sat aside, watching the happy ruckus, hands enfolded at their sides.

"It almost feels like we're not at camp," Lucina said eventually, her voice low so only he could hear it.

"Yes."

She glanced at her husband and smiled. "You don't seem to disapprove so badly."

He snorted a little, though he conceded a smirk. "It's too late to get them to stop." He watched Cordelia take over Brady's place as the healer took Noire out for a round, even as the latter protested she wasn't good at dancing. "Though I'll admit most of them will be ready to fight if need be."

Lucina chuckled gently. "True. There isn't quite enough ale to incapacitate most of them – Father says Sir Frederick made sure of that."

Gerome smirked, turning towards her to say something.

Whatever it was, the candlelight flickering across his wife's face drove it out instantaneously. Instead, it struck him that she was yoked to him for life. He was now a husband to his Exalt (Not even Chrom's presence could prevent him from remembering her in that capacity), fellow soldier and friend. As if that wasn't enough, she looked almost too beautiful to be real – her smile too bright, the complexion of her skin too smooth. Yet he could feel her hand in his, saw her eyelashes blink up and down, and breathed in the flowery scent her aunt Lissa had dabbed onto her hair and neck before the ceremony.

"Lucina."

She turned to him and gave him a smile. "Yes?"

He blinked, suddenly feeling rather foolish if he admitted to not knowing if this whole situation was real. When her eyebrows got a little higher in a silent question, he let out a breath.

"Nothing."

Lucina smiled a little wider. "Perhaps we should try not to keep too many secrets from each other, now that we're married." Hurriedly, she added, "You needn't tell me _everything _at once. But know that I would never refuse you a listening ear."

He smirked to hear her efforts at diplomacy – there had been no reason to doubt it, but it seemed like she _did_ understand just whom she had wed. It was an encouraging thought.

So, stroking his thumb against the back of her hand, he leaned in closer in spite of the fact that there was a chance of being seen. "You look beautiful."

She blinked, rather taken aback at the sudden compliment. "Huh?"

"I was thinking that," he admitted in a low, half-embarrassed tone. "You looked too lovely to be real. Too lovely to become my wife."

Lucina stared at him for a moment, a blush rising alongside her heart rate. "That's kind, but not quite true. You're dashing enough for two women."

Gerome couldn't accuse her of flattery. She always said what she meant. So all he could think to say was, "If I am enough for you, that will satisfy me."

An amused smile edged out past the flaring redness of her cheeks. "Yes, Gerome, you are. After all, I did just marry you. Is that not a sufficient answer?"

He smirked. "So it is." And he closed the small gap between them, finally giving into the longing to kiss her. It had been present the entire evening, tempered by the idea that it was probably not the best decision to do it in front of _everyone_ they knew, even after their marriage. But Lucina's smile had been more brilliant than he could bear without doing anything.

He felt her tense for an instant, surprised by his action, and then relaxed into his touch, returning the favour. Her lips were literally sweet – she'd had some honey cakes earlier – and he could smell a faint fragrance of fruit. Both sensations were pleasant to him; he could only hope she was as happy as he was.

Judging by her red faced smile when they parted – the widest it had ever been and that was saying something – she was. She looked as if a sun glowed from her innermost self, lighting up her entire expression. For once, he thought, it was a shame he was no poet. After a split second, he felt himself grow warm – apparently blushing was something no one outgrew – at such irrationality.

Glancing aside, if only just to clear his head, he realised no one had catcalled or whistled. Surely that was a testament to how much their friends and family were enjoying the dancing.

"At this rate, they won't notice even if Risen came right up to the mess tent," he said dryly.

He felt Lucina's fingers gently squeeze his, then heard her voice. "Well… Risen is one thing. We are another."

Gerome blinked. That was a hint if he ever heard one, though he wasn't about to object to such a notion. Tightening his grasp around her hand, he murmured, "Where should we go?"

She looked at him for a minute. "Anywhere. Just for a short while."

"Alright."

They rose from their seats slowly, glancing at the festivities to make sure no one was looking their way, and soon slid their way out of the tent.

Some distance away, as they slow danced to Cordelia's lute, Cherche chuckled. "And off they go."

Gaius clucked his tongue once. "I was _sure_ he'd wait."

His wife smiled sweetly. "Oh I believe Gerome would have. Lucina on the other hand isn't quite as predictable."

Gaius raised an eyebrow at her. "Blue's daughter? Really?"

"You do realise he has just married the girl who had us all convinced at one point that she was a he, and that he was Marth. All behind exceptional swordplay and a mask," replied Cherche with the same smile.

Gaius thought for a minute. "Good point. I'll give Minerva an extra hour's rubdown tomorrow."

Cherche pecked him on the cheek. "I like it when you lose our bets gracefully."

He merely snorted. "But this little escape means you can't teach them the whole Valmese pre-marriage bed thing, right?"

Cherche shook her head. "I still can. We'll just give them some time to themselves then go look for them." Gaius' inquiring glance was met with a gentler smile. "Lucina and Olivia told me something important before the ceremony. Suffice to say, there will be time for that little ritual even tonight."

"…do I want to know what's going on?"

"You probably do. But if you value our son and daughter-in-law's privacy, then you don't _need_ to know. Not till tomorrow at least."

Gaius sighed, tugging her closer with the arm he had around her waist. "I swear you do this on purpose sometimes."

She grinned slightly and leaned into him. "Admit it: you like it when I make you curious."

"Tsk. We're in public, dear," replied Gaius, even as his eyes gleamed with amusement. "Such pillow talk will have to wait."

Her only response was a bright laugh.

.

End.

**A/N:** Believe me when I say I split the wedding night in half because I care. Real life as well as uni work are threatening my fic time, so I thought I'd best get this done first _at least_. (This is kind of the point of this piece after all.) I apologise for the delays in updating. Also! Thank you for all your lovely comments which I really, really appreciate. You're all awesome people!

And the man who is capable of saying, "Lucina, you look lovelier every moment. How am I to focus in battle?" will be able to think his wife's too beautiful to marry him. I want to believe this is so.


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